Faux Pas
by Clara Barton
Summary: Trowa is a con man, a damned good one and maybe he likes to take risks, to gamble, but he wasn't counting on Duo, the long haired hustler who took his breath away, to be quite this kind of a risk.


A/N: Just needed to write some pretty plotless 2x3. Maybe, some day, I will make this a multi-part fic. But for now, it's a stand alone.

Warnings: language, sex, angst

Pairings: 2x3, past 3x4

**Faux Pas**

Three million dollars.

It was a lot, for one job, and Trowa actually had to put effort into keeping his face straight as he nodded and leafed through the paperwork, pretending to double-check, pretending to care what it said.

Of course he didn't care what it said. It didn't matter.

But he had to keep up appearances. It was important that Quatre Winner, that adorable, naive blond man sitting across from him think this was real. It was important that Quatre Winner thought his paperwork, all of these legal documents so cleverly drawn up to make sure this investment paid off, mattered to Trowa. It was important that Quatre Winner think this was his chance to make Daddy proud.

Trowa didn't normally play the game this big, with the stakes this high. If this went pear shaped he would be well and truly fucked. Quatre Winner might be young and foolish and naive, but his family was powerful, drowning in money, and had been known to take down their opponents with a ruthlessness that made Trowa rethink this deal, even now, even at the eleventh hour.

But he'd come this far. He'd set up the dummy corp, had rented and staffed the charity office space, had hired interns and organizers and hell, if he was a better person, this thing was so legit that he could just take it over. He could just become the president of this bogus wildlife fund that Quatre Winner was prepared to sink three million dollars into as start-up costs.

But Trowa wasn't a better person, and while he might lament the fact that the planet was going to shit and think that maybe it would be nice to save a few trees, he was enough of a realist to know that the planet was going to shit and it was time to look out for number one.

And number one was Trowa Barton.

Well, for the next ten minutes it was Triton Bloom, the alias Trowa was currently using, as he looked over the paperwork.

He nodded, bit his lip and ran his finger over one line, as though bothered by it, and Quatre leaned forward anxiously.

"What? Is that okay? My lawyer said we should -"

"No," Trowa soothed him, reached out to rest his hand on Quatre's shoulder and Quatre leaned into the touch. "It all looks good. It's very thorough. Serious. That's a good sign. We don't want this to fall apart. It's too important."

Quatre nodded and looked at him earnestly.

Trowa adjusted the glasses on his nose. It'd be a damn relief to ditch those once this job was done - he'd made the mistake of getting a pair with those nose cushion things, and they dug into his skin. Next time, if he had to use glasses again, he would go for the plastic frames.

Trowa signed his name with a flourish. He'd practiced this signature, scribbling on papers for hours before starting this con, and he was fairly proud of it, of the way it in no way resembled his own handwriting.

Quatre grinned and hugged him.

Trowa returned the hug, pressing against Quatre's body and the blond was a heartbeat away from crawling into his lap and kissing him.

"Wait," Trowa murmured in his ear, letting his lips brush over the sensitive skin and Quatre shivered and pulled away.

"We should finish this business first, and then… then maybe we can celebrate our new partnership?" Trowa suggested, trying to sound shy and hopeful.

Quatre nodded and chuckled a little, even as he blushed. Trowa knew it was rare that the Winner scion felt powerful or important in his own life, and he knew that he loved thinking Trowa - Triton Bloom - was some shy, hopeful nature lover who needed him to help save trees and daisies.

Trowa pulled up the accounts on his tablet and passed it over to Quatre.

"All you need to do is make the transfer - and Winner Wildlife will have a future," Trowa smiled at him and Quatre smiled back.

Trowa watched his long fingers type in the account numbers and he reflected that, in addition to the three million, this job had had other perks.

Trowa Barton had been running cons as long as he could remember - they had started off as simple jobs. Standing on a street corner with a ratty teddy bear and a cup, begging for change while his older sister, Catharine, kept a watchful eye on him from across the street. But they'd progressed from that point, over the years. Bigger jobs, longer jobs, complicated jobs that involved fake passports and learning to speak French with a Russian accent and they had had some dangerous jobs before. Some close calls and that one time when they'd been caught, the Croatian Duke snatching Cathy before she could escape after they had cleaned out his family's ancestral home of jewels and that had been bad, had seemed like the end. But the Croat hadn't known about Trowa, hadn't known about the knife Trowa had aimed at his throat until he was on the floor, dying and Trowa was untying his sister and they were running the fuck away.

Some of the cons had Cathy playing this role, seducing a mark for money, and some of them had Trowa doing it. It wasn't his favorite type of con, because he didn't particularly enjoy being pawed over by most of their marks. But sometimes, like this time, it was okay.

Because Quatre Winner was young and fit and damned eager to please in bed.

So Trowa took the tablet back from him, checked to make sure the transfer had gone through and set it aside and turned his attention on Quatre.

He could spare an extra hour, could take the time to enjoy Quatre's eagerness one last time while Cathy made sure that three million dollars was split up and rerouted to accounts that no one, not even Quatre Winner's ace bankers, would be able to trace.

-o-

Two weeks and then Cathy would set up their next gig.

It was a vacation, and while Trowa's "work" wasn't the type that necessitated a vacation the way an office worker wanted a vacation so they didn't have to stare at a cubicle anymore, Trowa still appreciated the time.

Maybe his work took him to exotic places, into the lap of luxury all the time, but he wasn't Trowa, not at work, and it wasn't about him - wasn't about what he wanted or liked or even needed. It was about the job.

So he treasured the two weeks and he made damn sure he spent them as far away from his sister as he could.

He wasn't sure what she did with her time, he suspected she had someone, some woman she liked to shack up with, but Cathy didn't say and Trowa didn't ask. He trusted his sister, he loved his sister - he had killed for his sister. But his sister was a manipulative bitch and so was he. It was best to keep some things secret from each other.

So Cathy did whatever she did for two weeks and Trowa went to Las Vegas, booked an expensive suite that got him on the radar and invited to the high stakes poker games at the Bellagio and he wore his hair the way he wanted, letting it fall over half his face because it helped mask his identity and because it was his, his hair and his face.

Cathy always said he was careless, always said he took too many risks and didn't care enough for his own life, his own safety and she was probably right, considering.

But poker wasn't risking his life, wasn't risking a lifetime in prison or worse. Sure, he'd lost some, at other tables, and he'd lost a lot. But he won more than he lost and he was good at poker, always had been.

So he spent two weeks sipping on watered down vodka-tonics, letting his opponents think he was a drunk, letting them think he was just flying by the seat of his pants as he calmly, soberly emptied their pockets night after night.

Two weeks sleeping all day, naked on the huge empty bed and tangled in the silk sheets because that was a perk, when you booked a suite this expensive, and it felt so damn good to just live in his own skin, to be his own man and not have to worry about slipping up, about being Trowa instead of Triton or Thomas or Toby or whoever the fuck he was next.

He loved Vegas, for the poker, for the hotel rooms, for the food that he indulged in because, once again, he wasn't pretending to be Triton the vegetarian who couldn't stand the thought of hurting an animal or Thomas, the hypochondriac who thought he would get a brain tumor from pork. He was Trowa, and Trowa liked steaks and he ate at all of the high end restaurants and he ate alone, ignoring the flirtations from men and women alike because this was his meal, his two weeks, and he wasn't going to waste his time on anyone else.

Until Trowa spotted him.

One night, trying to decide if he wanted to eat at Cut or Picasso, Trowa rode the elevator down to the lobby and saw him.

Long hair, loose and curling at the ends, falling over his shoulders and brushing against the top of his ass. Lean body poured into tight black jeans, a black v-neck t-shirt cut low enough to show a tattoo over his heart and a tight black suit jacket with the sleeves rolled up, revealing a tattoo on his right forearm, a black band of flowers that should have been feminine - especially combined with the long, loose hair. And maybe the tattoo and the hair were feminine. Maybe his features did veer towards androgynous, his wide, full lips, his large blue eyes. But his firm jawline, the smirk on his face, and the power of his forearms, the dark, glittering knowledge in his blue eyes - those spoke to Trowa on a level far deeper than masculinity or femininity.

Trowa watched blue eyes check him out, watched those dangerous eyes rove over his body, take in the expensive gray silk-wool blend Dior trousers and the black silk Dior shirt that Trowa had left unbuttoned down to his sternum. He watched the slow, sensuous curve of that wide mouth and he felt his heart beat faster.

As a rule, Trowa didn't pay for sex. The all too rare perks of his job aside, Trowa had no problem finding willing bed partners. He simply didn't care for the company, all that often. Didn't care about the bother of getting to know someone enough to fuck them. That, he supposed, was another thing he liked about Vegas. No need to even trade names - a drink at the bar, a hand of cards, a glance across the restaurant and in no time he was shoved up against a wall having his cock sucked.

But there was something about this man, this hustler - because he had to be a hustler, with that calculating gaze and that too-casual, sensuous strut and the way his entire existence seemed to ooze sex - there was something him that Trowa found hard to resist.

Blue eyes came to a stop in front of him, too close, and Trowa could smell him, the sharp, faint hint of cologne and damn it all his eyes were the most amazing color Trowa had ever seen.

His fingers itched to run through all of that hair, to trace the cross tattooed on his chest. He ached to have those lips around his cock and that hard body against his.

"I'm a little lost," blue eyes said, his smirk just this side of endearing, his eyes still dangerous, not fooling Trowa at all.

Trowa had to arch an eyebrow. He wanted this man. Wanted him more than he'd wanted anyone or anything in a long time, but he was curious. He wondered what his line would be, wondered how hard blue eyes would work for it.

"I was supposed to meet up with some friends of mine at Ghostbar but I got distracted."

"Distracted?" Trowa echoed.

Blue eyes nodded, his eyes comically wide.

"Yeah. One minute we were walking and talking - on our way to get a cab - and then the elevator doors opened and this fucking god walked out." Blue eyes looked Trowa over again, from his shoes to his crotch, lingering for a moment while his lips twitched into a smirk, and then meeting Trowa's eyes again. "And I completely forgot what I was supposed to be doing."

It wasn't bad, combined with those intense eyes, and if Trowa hadn't been a con man, if Trowa hadn't had to deliver his own lines and hadn't heard come-ons for as long as he could remember, he might have melted. Might have bought into the whole thing, believed that this gorgeous man had forgotten everything at the mere sight of him.

Trowa wondered what it would feel like, to be dumb enough to believe it, to spend a night thinking he was the center of existence for this glorious creature, to believe that he was wanted by him. It would feel good, Trowa was sure - and he was confident the sex would be mind-blowing. But if he was that dumb, if he was inclined to believe blue eyes saw him as anything other than a mark, then Trowa would wake up in the morning with his wallet missing and likely half of the mini bar emptied.

"How much?" He asked, because maybe, this once, he'd pay for it. Pay for a night with this man.

Blue eyes arched an eyebrow, some of that wide-eyed false innocence gone now and his smirk turned positively feral. He reached out, tapped a finger against Trowa's sternum and dragged it downwards, resting on the top button of Trowa's shirt.

"What room are you in?" Blue eyes asked.

Trowa snorted. Of course.

"3401," he said and those eyes narrowed. So he knew the layout, knew that the thirty-fourth floor were the penthouse suites and he wanted to factor that into his expenses. Smart.

"You looking for something to work up an appetite or were you feeling lonely tonight?" Blue asked and Trowa found himself enjoying this negotiation, a lot more than he should.

"I suppose that depends on the quality of the company," he said and blue eyes laughed, the sound rich and dark and it sent a thrill down Trowa's spine.

He had the sudden and very distinct thought that he was in over his head. That Cathy was right about how reckless he was, how many risks he took.

Blue eyes leaned close, and Trowa felt his hand drift lower, felt it run against his cock inside his trousers and give a playful squeeze before the man stepped back.

"I have to agree," he said, "it depends on the quality of the company."

Trowa wondered if that was another trick - another attempt by the hustler to make him feel special, so that when he was hit with the cost of this little affair he would think he had been given some kind of deal for being exceptional.

But if blue eyes wanted to play this game, if blue eyes wanted to tease and con him - well, Trowa was more than willing to play along. He liked games, after all. He liked to gamble and he liked to win.

-o-

Blue eyes let out a low whistle, looking out the two story windows and down on the bright Las Vegas strip, always beautiful at night, glowing with life and energy.

Trowa locked the door behind himself and set down his room key. He was glad he made a habit of using the hotel safe, glad that he had stashed the several hundred thousand dollars he had won over these last few days inside of it and only kept out enough money to buy into a game tonight.

He watched blue eyes survey the suite, run his long fingers over the leather couch near the windows and smirk at Trowa over his shoulder before glancing at the spiral staircase that led upstairs to the bedroom.

But Trowa was in no rush. His appetite for food was gone, and the high stakes poker games wouldn't start for hours yet. He had time to spare.

He leaned back against the arm of the couch and Duo seemed to realize he wasn't in the mood for going to straight to bed. Yet.

"What's your name?" he asked, and he wondered if the hustler would bullshit him.

"Duo," he said and Trowa couldn't decide, couldn't tell if he was being honest or not.

"I want to see you, Duo," Trowa said and Duo grinned.

He held out his hands and did a little spin, hair and jacket flying around his body.

"Here I am," Duo teased, his voice husky.

Duo's fingers went to the hem of his shirt, lifting it slightly, exposing his golden, taut belly and Trowa felt his mouth go dry.

"Or did you mean you wanted to see this?" Duo continued to tease.

Trowa looked at him and Duo chuckled.

He dropped the hem of his shirt and instead shucked out of his jacket, tugging at the sleeves and then dropping it unceremoniously on the floor.

The band of flowers on his left arm wasn't just a band, Trowa realized. It was an entire sleeve, going up until the short sleeves of his black t-shirt and Trowa wanted very much to feel it, to run his tongue and his fingers over the black ink.

Duo lifted the hem of his shirt again, taking his time, wrapping one hand around all of that hair to pull it free of the neck.

The cross tattoo on his chest was large, starting at the base of his sternum and stretching down to end just a few inches above his navel, and the arms covered his pectorals, stopping just short of the areola and his nipples.

He was lean, with only faint muscle definition, but Trowa had never been drawn to the body-builder types. He appreciated fitness, appreciated the fact that Duo's body was powerful and dangerous and he probably couldn't hold his own in a conventional fight but Trowa wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alley.

Shirtless, hair falling around him like some kind of veil, Duo walked closer to Trowa.

"Like what you see?" He asked, his voice still that husky purr and Trowa wondered if that was his real voice, because it didn't seem like Duo was putting much effort into it. And if it was his voice - if he really was this sexy as fuck man - Jesus.

Trowa ran his fingers over Duo's arms, letting his short nails graze over the firm flesh and Duo shivered and leaned into the touch.

"I want to see the rest," Trowa pushed Duo back a step, giving him room to strip, giving Trowa a better angle to watch.

Duo's were still curved upwards, still smirking and Trowa wanted to kiss him, wanted so badly to feel that smirk against his mouth and he decided why the hell not? If he was going to pay for this - he might as well do what he wanted.

He reached out to grab Duo's hands, working to unfasten his jeans, and pulled him close. Their noses bumped, and it wasn't elegant, wasn't smooth, but then the press of Duo's warm, wet lips, the slickness of his tongue against Trowa's was more arousing than anything Trowa could have dreamed of.

He could feel the smirk, even with Duo's mouth open and his tongue buried in Trowa's mouth and it made him hard, thinking of that, that smirk and that tongue and Jesus. Kissing wasn't this hot. Kissing didn't make Trowa rock forward, desperate for friction and relief.

Duo pulled away, the fucking tease, and took a few more steps backwards, out of Trowa's reach.

He ran his fingers down his own chest, pinching his own nipples and running down the tattoo and then resting his hands on the waistband of his jeans.

"I'm thinking you like what you see," Duo murmured.

He popped the button on his fly, slowly undid the zipper, and then started to peel down the jeans.

He wasn't wearing underwear, which Trowa found equally disappointing and arousing because he wondered what kind of underwear Duo preferred, wondered what his ass and his thighs would look like in tight black briefs.

But it really didn't matter, because Duo kicked off the jeans and his shoes and he stood before Trowa completely naked and yes, Trowa liked what he saw.

Duo spun again, slower this time, keeping eye contact with Trowa almost the entire move.

"Your turn," Duo suggest and gestured towards the close.

Trowa stood up and took a few steps forward and then dropped his arms to his sides.

"Go ahead."

Duo chuckled, that damn intoxicating sound again, and stepped closer.

Duo kissed him, having to reach just a little now that Trowa was standing at his full height, and it felt just as good, just as intense and deep and hot as the first kiss had.

"I saw you try this on yesterday," Duo said, his voice a whisper against Trowa's skin as he kissed his way down Trowa's throat and chest, unbuttoning Trowa's black shirt as he went.

Trowa shivered, at the touch, at the words, at the realization.

That should have alarmed him, should have had him shoving Duo towards his pile of clothes and telling him to get out. To be watched like that - to have been a mark that Duo was scouting. Trowa wasn't used to that feeling. That was what he did - he watched and waited to make a move. He hadn't ever had the tables turned on him and he should feel fear, should feel trepidation and hell, probably anger.

But he liked games and he liked to gamble and he had to wonder…

If he had so easily recognized Duo for what he was, hadn't Duo recognized _him_? Hadn't Duo catalogued the way Trowa looked him over, judged him, negotiated with him?

"What made you pick me?" He asked, letting Duo slide the shirt off his shoulders but then catching his wrists when he moved to the fly of Trowa's trousers.

Duo looked at him, all pretense gone, and he smirked again.

"I like a bit of a challenge," Duo responded. He arched an eyebrow. "You?"

"The same," Trowa admitted and Duo laughed.

"Now that we've got that sorted?" Duo tugged on his wrists and Trowa released him.

Duo took his time removing the trousers, smoothing them down Trowa's hips and thighs with his hands and then kneeling down, looking up at Trowa with that same smirk before he turned his attention to Trowa's boxers.

"Didn't see you try _these_ on," Duo admitted. He skimmed his fingers over the waistband, pressing the silk against Trowa's flesh. His fingers ran lower, ghosting over Trowa's erection.

"Then you didn't follow me to the Armani store," Trowa reprimanded him.

Duo shrugged.

"I didn't have all day to watch you play dress up."

Duo tugged the boxers down, freeing Trowa's erection, and Duo held the trousers and boxers still while Trowa stepped out of them.

Duo ran his hands up Trowa's ankles, over his calves and knees and thighs and to his hips.

"Let me think…" Duo said, his face close to Trowa's cock, his breath hot on the sensitive flesh, "I'm guessing you want me to suck you off first. I'm guessing you've been wanting my mouth on your cock since you first saw me, haven't you?"

Trowa didn't answer. If he was being that obvious, that transparent, then Duo didn't need a verbal response.

Duo smirked.

"And then you'll suck me off and finger me until you're hard again and then I imagine you want to fuck me, long and hard, over and over again until we've both forgotten what this is really about."

There was an edge to Duo's words, in his eyes, and Trowa once again knew that he should be alarmed, but he wasn't. He could feel his pulse pounding, his heart racing and all he cared about was Duo closing those precious few inches and taking Trowa's cock into his mouth.

Duo maintained eye contact, but he finally gave Trowa what he wanted, finally opened those full lips and Trowa slid into that wet heat and fuck it felt good. So damn good.

One of Duo's hands played with his balls, the other kept a tight grip on Trowa's left hip and Duo let Trowa fuck his mouth, used that one hand to keep him from going too deep or too hard and it was the best head Trowa had ever had.

Duo took him deep, his mouth and throat tight around Trowa and his tongue smoothing over Trowa's cock and his teeth just barely grazing the underside and when Trowa came Duo swallowed hard, moving his other hand to grip Trowa's other hip and he held him close while he milked him, sucking him down until Trowa was shuddering and pulling away, too sensitive for more.

Duo wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and then licked it clean.

"Where do you want me?" Duo asked, because he knew, had already said, that Trowa would want to suck him off, would want to finger him and he had to know Trowa wanted to see his hair spread out, his neck arched and his body glazed with sweat.

"Do you have lube?" Trowa asked.

Duo arched an eyebrow.

"Do you?"

"Yes." But Trowa wasn't an idiot. The blow job had been mind-blowing, but his mental faculties were intact enough to remember that leaving this man alone while he went in search of lube and condoms was the same thing as inviting him to rob him blind.

Duo chuckled and rose to his feet, graceful and gorgeous, his cock hard and leaking.

Trowa watched him walk back over to his clothes, watched his reach into the jacket pocket and pull out a small tube of lube and a few foil wrappers.

Eventually, Trowa figured, they would make it upstairs, and his own supplies would be in easy reach. But for now, this would do.

He pulled Duo back against him and kissed him again. He could taste himself, a slightly bitter aftertaste on Duo's tongue. He wondered how long it had taken Duo to achieve this kind of skill with his tongue, wondered if kissing like this was natural to him or if he had practiced it.

Trowa backed them up, across the living room, until Duo's back was pressed against the windows and he shivered from the cold hardness against his ass.

Trowa took his time working downwards, towards Duo's cock. He traced the cross tattoo, laved at Duo's nipples until the hustler was gripping his head and moaning. He didn't know what was real, how much pleasure Duo was really getting out of this, but the hustler was, at least, one hell of an actor.

Trowa continued to tease him, licking and biting until Duo begged.

"Please," he moaned and thrust his hips forward, his cock jutting against Trowa's chest.

One hell of an actor, or someone who had found a line of work they really enjoyed. Maybe some combination of both, Trowa was sure.

He continued to tease, only licking at Duo's cock, swirling around the wide head and then running his tongue over the shaft until Duo made some kind of growl in the back of his throat and it was the sexiest noise Trowa had ever heard. He felt his own cock twitch in response, felt himself get hard again and he decided he was done teasing Duo.

He took him deep, putting his own skill and experience to good use as Duo wasn't small, but Trowa kept him pressed firmly against the windows, unwilling to let Duo fuck his mouth, especially not when he growled again, that low frustrated sound that made it clear that yeah, this was a job, Trowa was a mark, but he was enjoying this and wanted more, wanted to fuck Trowa's mouth and wanted to come inside of him.

Trowa kept his pace controlled, steadily bobbing along Duo's length and he took the lube from Duo's fingers, felt those fingers go to his hair and tug on his bangs instead.

He skimmed his fingers along Duo's balls, back and up his crack and forced him to spread his legs so Trowa could access his anus and Duo went a little boneless, his knees giving out for a moment when Trowa nudged the tip of his finger inside.

Duo groaned, swore softly and violently, and then caught himself, supporting his own weight again and then groaning again when Trowa added a second finger.

He was tight, surprisingly so and Trowa wondered at that, but it wasn't like Duo had to have a cock jammed up his ass all day, every day to be a successful hustler. He probably went for marks with a lot of money and no sense and didn't have to find them all that often. Or maybe he didn't bottom often, maybe he was used to partners who wanted that glorious cock fucking them hard and fast and Trowa wouldn't mind that so much himself, after he'd had his own go at fucking Duo's tight ass.

He scissored his fingers open and Duo came with a muffled shout, covering his mouth with his own hand and biting down a little.

Trowa sat back on his heels, releasing Duo's soft cock and looking up at him. He arched an eyebrow at that, Duo's attempts to conceal his orgasm.

"It was a little more intense than I was expecting," Duo said with a shrug, and then he joined Trowa on the floor, straddling him and sitting in his lap while they kissed, while Trowa continued to finger him until they were both hard and Duo was rocking his hips forward, their cocks rubbing together and Trowa pulled away from the kiss with a gasp.

He looked around for the condom wrappers and reached for the nearest one.

Duo watched him roll it on, his blue eyes following Trowa's fingers as he stroked himself a few times and he licked his lips, as though anticipating a treat.

He was sexy, maybe the sexiest man Trowa had ever encountered, and he decided that he would pay whatever Duo wanted - whatever cost the hustler set was going to be worth it.

When he buried himself deep inside of Duo, when he looked down to see his hair spread out and his blue eyes wide and his mouth open in a silent moan, it was the most beautiful thing Trowa had ever seen.

Duo's powerful body moving with his, his strong thighs gripping Trowa's hips and ass, one hand fisted on his own cock while the other held onto Trowa's shoulder, nails digging in a little - they were sensations Trowa wasn't likely to forget anytime soon.

He took his time, drawing it out, working himself to the cusp of orgasm twice before he finally came, and by that point Duo had already gotten off, was just clinging to him and gasping because he had to be sensitive, had to be feeling Trowa's cock against his prostate and it had to border on painful, but Duo's arms held Trowa fast, urged him to release and afterwards, they lay side by side on the floor and recovered.

"Holy fuck," Duo breathed and Trowa had to laugh.

Holy fuck felt about right.

He watched Duo get up, made a face when Duo pulled the used condom off his cock, and then watched him walk into the small kitchenette area and dispose of it.

"What time is it?" Duo asked as he walked back towards Trowa.

Trowa checked his watch, a Rolex he had won in a game two nights ago and didn't care for much. He'd probably pawn it on his way out of town.

"Ten fifteen," he arched an eyebrow. "You have somewhere to be?"

"No," Duo said. He straddled Trowa's hips and there was something about him now, about his eyes and his body language and his lack of a smirk that finally set off those alarm bells in Trowa's brain.

"But you do," Duo continued.

There was a knock at the door, and Duo let Trowa push him off.

"Who is that?" He demanded, and he was furious with himself for the fear he heard in his own voice.

"FBI," Duo said and he got to his feet.

Trowa stared at him.

Duo walked over to his clothes and gestured towards Trowa's own.

"They're going to break down the door in about fifteen seconds unless I let them in. Do you want to be arrested naked or with your pants on?"

But Trowa could only stare.

"You're an FBI agent."

Duo nodded.

"I was assigned to your case two years ago."

There was more knocking, and then a shout.

"This is the FBI. We are entering the room. Have your hands up and drop any weapons."

Duo looked at him as he zipped up his jeans.

"I'm sorry," he said, and Trowa could tell he meant it.

"_Fuck you_," Trowa bit out.

And then the door crashed open and flashlights blinded him and yeah, he'd remember the feel of Duo's body, the scent of his cologne and the feel of his tongue for a long fucking time.

He'd remember the sound of his laughter and the way his eyes were dark as he apologized, and Trowa Barton would make damn sure he had the chance to pay Duo back for this.

-o-

So, not an update to Pax Ultima or Entanglement - but you're getting those too!

Also, this wasn't the new and exciting project I hinted at.

The new and exciting project is a collaboration between Miss Murdered and myself.

It will be posted under our joint account, ClaraBandMissM

Look for it soon!


End file.
